Valeria’s POV
Dinner had gone just the way I planned.
I made sure the cook prepared one of Elliot’s favorites—shrimp tempura—alongside a couple of other dishes I knew he liked. Mashed potatoes with cheese, and those tiny roasted carrots he always pretended to hate but secretly loved. He was in a great mood, telling me all about the book he was currently reading and how he thought the main character needed to be “more emotionally intelligent.” His words, not mine.
Now we were curled up in the living room, both of us with bowls of chocolate mousse—another one of his favorites. He was clad in his light blue pajamas, tiny feet curled under him on the sofa, happily chugging down his dessert with a big spoon and an even bigger smile. I was sitting right next to him, but my mind was far away.
